Gentlemen's Agreement
by Night Zephyr
Summary: No friends, no professors, no roommates to interrupt them anymore. So why is Ron having trouble finding some privacy with Hermione? And they say curiosity killed the cat... RHr, naturally


**~ Gentlemen's Agreement ~  
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by NightZephyr  
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A/N: Just a little something to keep you all going while you wait for my next chaptered fic--it's coming along, but it's coming along veeerrryyy sloooowwly. In the meantime, something a bit lighter and fluffier to take a break from the heavier stuff'. My first try at older and married Ron and Hermione, this is an outtake inspired by _The Other Man In Her Life (at checkmated.com)_, a ficlet by the amazingly talented **sunshyndaisies**, who was also kind enough to beta for me on this one. Thanks for all the help and inspiration, **sunshyndaisies**, and especially, for all the fun!  
~NZ~  
  
~~~***~~~  


  
There. See how easy that was? Hermione said as she charmed the little white boxes to whisk themselves off the makeshift table and throw themselves in the dustbin.  
  
Yeah, but I woulda starved if you hadn't charmed these--what are they?--hopsticks?-- to feed me. Ron slumped down in the chair so that he could lean his head back and open his mouth. The chopsticks expertly dropped the last bite of Kung Pao Chicken between his lips, then he sat upright to chew as the sticks joined the boxes in the dustbin.  
  
Ron watched Hermione closely as she turned to survey the room, which was cluttered with items wrapped in newsprint and piled high with packing boxes.  
  
I think I have just about enough energy to finish unpacking the kitchen tonight, Hermione said determinedly as she headed toward the closest box marked .  
  
That brought Ron to his feet immediately. Tonight? You're going to work on it _tonight?_ But can't you just charm everything to go where it belongs?  
  
So how does it know where it belongs? Hermione asked. _ We_ don't even know where everything belongs yet. You can't charm it the first time.  
  
Ron looked a bit worried. Oh...well... why don't we take a break on unpacking tonight?  
  
A break? Hermione laughed. We just moved in this morning. Hermione picked up one of the boxes.  
  
Yeah, but-- Ron was, for some reason, sounding desperate, --I'm sure you're tired, and I'm tired, and we could just head for bed early...  
  
But all of these boxes... Hermione said, shaking her head and looking around. I hate not knowing where everything is.  
  
I know--but we'll work hard tomorrow--I promise. Hey--we could go in the bedroom, then you won't have to look at them, Ron offered hopefully. We already have the bedroom things unpacked. As they talked, Ron had gently coaxed the box out of Hermione's hands; he casually set it down behind a stack of other boxes.  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and glared at him. That's because _you_ insisted on starting there. Odd choice, that.  
  
Ron attempted to look as if he had insisted for some noble cause. We _have_ to be able to _sleep_, Hermione.  
  
Oh, really? Is _that_ what else you can do in a bed? she asked impishly, a twinkle in her eye. It's been so long I'd almost forgotten.  
  
Ron looked wounded. Hey--I let you sleep.  
  
Only long enough to regain some strength, more like it. Hermione had found another box and picked it up.  
  
What? I'm not _that_ bad, he said, snorting and turning away, only to glance back at her hesitantly to see her reaction.  
  
He found Hermione staring at him with eyebrows raised.  
  
Well...okay, if I am, it's because I had to wait eleven long years--eleven_ years,_ Hermione, of being in love with you and you looking like that and not being allowed to...well... Ron was proud of the fact that he actually sounded like he had a point. He walked to where she was heading for the kitchen.  
  
Hermione smiled at the off-handed compliment, but remained nonplussed. What--and wasn't I there waiting, too? For one, you're really pushing it to start counting from when we _met. _And I also happen to know you weren't _completely_ deprived all of those eleven years, you know.  
  
Yeah, but--now that we're married, I can level with you, Ron said. As he talked, he pulled the box from her hands and set it down in a hole between some other boxes. If he could keep her listening intently, she might not notice... Now don't get me wrong--those other things are very, very nice and all, and I would never _ever_ give them up--but if that's all there is, it's sort of like having all the beginning courses at dinner, and you never get to taste dessert. And you _know_ how I am about my sweets. Eleven years I waited for dessert, now, didn't I?  
  
Hermione laughed a bit and shook her head at his comparison. Yes, Ron--you did.   
  
Ron flashed her the cocky grin this time--that was _always_ good for a distraction. And you love it as much as I do, when you aren't being too stubborn to admit it.  
  
Hermione paused a moment in thought. Maybe -- well,_ if_ I do, it must be all _your_ doing, I suppose.  
  
Ron felt his ears start burning at that, but his insides were full of grins. But it's been--a while.  
  
That thought seemed to break her concentration and bring her back to the moment at hand. _Bloody hell--we were almost there! _Ron thought. He watched her find another box and pick it up. _ Damn! How many of those bloody things are there?_  
  
Now wait a minute, Hermione protested. Two weeks of wedded bliss, Ron--all wonderful, but we didn't step outside the hotel room once on our honeymoon. Now you're saying two days is--a while?  
  
Ron inconspicuously (he thought) reached for the box again, but she wasn't about to let him have it this time. Maybe I wouldn't have had to survive even one if we hadn't had to stay at your parents' place.   
  
It's not _my_ fault the apartment wasn't ready and we had to stay there last night.  
  
Ron was chagrined. I know.  
  
And it wasn't my fault you said it felt weird sleeping together in my old twin bed while my parents were just two rooms down. Hermione turned toward the kitchen again.  
  
Well, I was trying to save_ you_ all the embarrassment, Ron reasoned. You _do_ get a bit loud and carried away sometimes, you know.  
  
Hermione looked at Ron in disbelief and cleared her throat loudly.She rolled her eyes. Anyway, it was your choice. And now it's my choice to get some of this put in its place--you know it'll drive me mad until it's all settled.  
  
I know. Ron knew he was losing the battle. There was only one strategy left--time to pull out all the stops. He walked up in front of Hermione, who seemed inclined to make sure that the box she held stayed between them. You start, I'll bring another box._Yeah, right! Better make this good, Weasley, or you'll be in big trouble for sure!   
  
_Ron leaned over the box Hermione held, offering her what he hoped she'd think was a harmless little truce' kiss. Little did she know...  
  
He leaned in for the kill--check that-- for the kiss_ (all right, killer kiss,_ he thought smugly). The remaining resistance was over in but a moment for Hermione. But Ron knew that the kiss had to go on long enough that she no longer knew where she was, nor cared. She tried in vain to back away from him, apparently still aware that if she couldn't, her kitchen organization was doomed for the night. But by the time she was backed against the wall with nowhere left to turn, she was so far gone that she willingly let him flip the box aside out of her hands and quickly filled the empty space inbetween those hands with him.  
  
Within moments after deepening their kiss, Ron heard what he knew to be her final concession. It was that wonderful, soft little whimpering noise that she made in her throat--and he knew what that meant--she wouldn't make him back down now. In fact, in all honesty, that noise usually meant--'Okay, so you win-- you're on, Weasley and I'll race you to the top!' But then, aside from grave illness or imminent death, he could imagine no earthly reason why he would ever want to stop there anyway.  
  
Ron felt her hands on the sides of his face, pushing him away. _ She couldn't actually be trying to slow things down **now,** could she? _But she looked deep into his eyes once she'd pulled back a bit, just long enough to say, You are _impossible!_ And with that, she pulled his face to hers once more and kissed him even more fervently than he had done to her, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She responded to his fingers on the back of her thigh by pushing off from the floor and wrapping her legs around his middle._ Now if only I don't kill us both falling over these boxes...  
  
_Ron managed to get them to the bedroom, in spite of the weak knees that were caused not by carrying Hermione's weight but by her hungry lips on his. He found a space just big enough for her on the top of their brand new bed (delivered earlier with a second gift card, the front of which showed a smirking Bill and Charlie both giving thumbs up'--the first card at the wedding had just chastely said Best Wishes'). Gently dropping Hermione on the bed, he leaned and reached to shove some of the other miscellaneous items around them to the floor.  
  
She smiled up at him eagerly and pulled him down on top of her with her legs, just as he stretched to reach for the last pile of clothing near their pillows to push it off. _Never can tell when you need some extra room... _Ron thought.  
  
But the pile of clothing didn't move as expected. In fact, it didn't move at all; it just jerked, growled and hissed, so Ron decided he ought to leave it be.  
  
Hermione, Crookshanks is in here, he said, half sounding as if he was tattling on the cat.  
  
She pulled harder behind his neck, but Ron resisted in order to make his point.  
  
Ron said, as if she didn't understand, he's in our _bed!  
_  
I know--poor thing--he's not in a very good mood, either, trying to get used to a new flat.  
  
Ron wasn't sure what he expected her to say, but he wasn't expecting Crookshanks to get _sympathy_ for his situation. Over the years, he and Crookshanks had learned to tolerate one another, but it was an uneasy alliance, at best. Ron wasn't too happy with leaving him there, but he shrugged it off. _Oh, well, Crookshanks, close your eyes and don't bother us--I've got much more important matters to attend to here than you..._  
  
Returning his attention to the amazing, still-new feeling of Hermione's body pressed so close to his, and to her lips, which she yielded so willingly, he quickly forgot there were more than two beings in the room.   
  
Until he felt a large paw on his head--batting at him several times.  
  
Aggravated by the interruption, Ron looked up briefly to see Crookshanks extending a paw in the air. Hey--keep your paws to yourself. And have the decency to turn around, would you?  
  
Hermione giggled from below him. It's probably your hair. It's shiny and he likes things that dangle.  
  
Ron said dryly, rolling his eyes. He pulled his arm loose from where it had been wrapped around his new wife and threw a t-shirt from the pile where Crookshanks had been sleeping over the cat's head.  
  
_Since I have a free hand..._Ron thought. He reached under the back of Hermione's t-shirt and slid along her back, reveling in the feelings her soft, bare skin were causing in him. Expertly unfastening her bra with practically a snap of his fingers, Ron pushed the hem of her shirt towards her head, rolling her body just a bit so that the shirt slipped right over.  
  
Obviously didn't learn that in just two weeks--waiting eleven years for it all--ha!, Hermione mumbled, though she was still smiling at him.  
  
Ron resumed his work on her, kissing his way from just under her ear down the side of her throat. His fingers traced her shoulder, then eased eased her bra strap over the roundness of it, but she pulled his face back to hers for a kiss in a moment of need, so he simply let his fingers caress her arm ever so gently.  
  
Until he felt the claws puncture his hand and drag back.  
  
Ron said loudly, almost into her mouth. Bloody cat! He scratched me--on purpose!  
  
Hermione sighed. No, he didn't, Ron. He's just thinks you're playing.'  
  
Ron glanced into her eyes before looking back at the cat that watched him carefully. Well, I'm _not._ Not with _him_, anyway.  
  
Come here, Hermione said softly, reaching to turn Ron's head to focus on her instead of on Crookshanks.  
  
_Oh, they shoulda told me sooner marriage could be this good..._It was only after a lovely few minutes of letting his senses absorb every feeling he possibly could through every place their bodies touched that he felt the pressure of a heavy body on the pillow above Hermione's head. Without breaking their kiss, he glanced up to see that the fuzzy orange bugger had not only stayed, but had apparently moved in for a closer look.  
  
Crookshanks, my boy--time to get down--now!, Ron said firmly, again irritable at being interrupted and reaching with one hand to shove the offending cat toward the edge of the bed. Get down--go on--shooo!  
  
Crookshanks growled ominously and hissed; he took one powerful swipe at Ron's hand and missed. But in the end, Ron's strength won out and he disappeared over the edge of the bed.  
  
Hermione twisted her head to watch the confrontation between her two favorite males, but she said nothing.  
  
Less than a minute and a discarded garment or two later, Ron felt a sudden draft against his now-bare shoulder from the other side of the bed. Feeling the heat of an angry stare through his head, a glance up from Ron and then from Hermione showed a very ominous-looking, very superior-seeming Crookshanks, sitting tall at the top of the pillows and staring at them, his tail whipping...   
  
He's watching us, Ron said in a low voice, as if he was suddenly worried the cat could understand him.  
  
Hermione said, just a little perturbed. He's just a cat!  
  
Yeah, but--the way he's watching us--  
  
Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron, what does he care?  
  
I don't know, Ron said suspiciously. You never told him that you had cat ears and a tail once, did you?  
  
Hermione acted as if she couldn't believe what she heard.   
  
Never mind, Ron said, trying to jump off that topic quickly. I just don't know why he's so damned possessive.  
  
Reminds me of someone else I know, Hermione muttered.   
  
Ron was indignant. But I'm entitled--he didn't just marry you.  
  
Do you _know_ how ridiculous you sound? Just ignore him--he'll get bored and go away. In fact, I'm getting bored with you two and your problems--you don't want me to go away, do you?  
  
She knew what his answer to that would be.   
  
It was another few minutes of kissing and touching and shifting to add more clothes to the original pile on the bed before it all hit the fan. Or, rather, before it hit Ron's cheek.  
  
Crookshanks had continued moving closer again so that his tail, whipping perilously close to his owner and her husband, would connect. There would never again be any doubt in Ron's mind that Crookshanks did anything without intent as the long, snapping thing smacked Ron across the cheek, not once, but twice before he could do anything about it. This time, Ron had had it.  
  
All right! That's it! he shouted, scrambling over a bouncing Hermione to grab at Crookshanks. The large cat turned to run, but not before Ron clapped a hand on his back and pinned his hindquarters to the bed. Reaching with the other hand to seize the cat by his round, fluffy middle, he pulled as Crookshanks tried in vain to set claws in the sheets and take hold. Time for you to go visit the _other_ part of your new home--the one where you'll be sleeping from now on--  
  
Hermione held one arm over her chest and scooted herself to the edge of the bed next to where Ron sat trying to get a good hold on the struggling cat in his lap.She could tell it was time to try and defuse the situation before it got any worse.  
  
Ron, calm down, she said quietly, trying to instill some reason in her now-very-angry husband. Don't get him more upset--that's not a good idea...Here--I'll take him...  
  
Hermione reached for her pet with her free hand, but Ron's anger had just spilled over. The immediate volume and tone of his voice made Crookshanks consider bailing before Hermione's gentle touch even arrived.  
  
Don't get _him_ upset! Ron shouted. What do you think he's doing to--arrrghhhh!  
  
Crookshanks took his opportunity, launching himself from Ron's lap. He forcefully dug in his back nails for traction in a location on Ron that made him stand in shock, but double over in both real and anticipated pain.  
  
The cat headed for shelter under the bed.  
  
Oooooh-- Hermione--I don't know if he and I can live in the same flat, Ron said menacingly, leaning over and pacing to walk off some of his pain as he held his clenched hands in front of his unzipped jeans. At least I still had my jeans on, or I don't even want to_ think_ about what could have happened!  
  
Hermione grimaced, looking up at her husband. I'm sorry--he does that sometimes, but it's not so--painful--when he does it to me.  
  
Oh, I'm quite sure he's perfectly aware of who he did it to--where and _why,_ Ron said, still fuming.  
  
Hermione said weakly, apparently searching for something comforting to say. I'm sure there's no lasting damage and if it will help--I'll--I'll--just see if I can make it better. She blurted the last words out in a hurry and quickly turned a vivid shade of pink.  
  
But he--! And now he's--!...What did you just say? Ron spluttered in anger at first until what she said had caught up to him. Suddenly, he felt much less wounded--unless being a _little_ wounded was going to be in his favor.   
  
Standing to push his jeans to his knees on the way to going completely off, Ron didn't notice that his toes had slipped under the dustruffle on the bottom of the bed. But apparently someone else did. Eight claws sunk deep into ten toes as Ron's yell echoed through the entire flat. Almost as if running in place, Ron jumped and wriggled to move his feet away from the razor-like weapons under the bed, but the jeans tangled around his knees and he fell on the mattress next to Hermione. He was alternately yanking, pulling, and shoving at his pants legs to get them off, tugging at his boxers to keep them on, and yelling profanities at the top of his lungs.  
  
Hermione could do nothing but watch (and try very hard not to laugh), looking very fearful of what the new neighbors might think...  
  
Finally breaking free of his jeans and flinging them across the room, Ron scrambled to his feet and moved to stand some distance from the bed this time. Breathing hard and standing furiously rigid with a terrible scowl on his face, Ron tried to look menacing should his foe make a run for it. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand at the side of the bed and held it poised for attack.  
  
All right! Ron yelled. This is WAR, cat!!!  
  
Still grimacing and apparently at a loss for how to settle this, Hermione spoke in what she seemed to hope was a soothing voice. Calm down, Ron--he's just an animal--_please_ calm down!  
  
Ron dropped to his knees at the side of the bed and leaned down, carefully lifting the dustruffle with his wand to peer underneath, but staying back so that Crookshanks couldn't attack his face next. He saw a fluffy mound, then pointed and fired, incanting __ and firing sparks several times to scare the cat out from under the bed. But all that happened was Crookshanks curled into a tighter ball at the farthest point possible. Ron tried magical ropes to lasso him and pull him out, but the ropes only succeeded in getting tangled in the bedsprings.   
  
Bloody, stupid cat-- Ron continued to mutter profanities the whole time he was trying to make the extraction. _Accio Crookshanks!_ Ron tried, but Crookshanks dug his nails into the deep carpet, and wasn't even moved by the spell.  
  
Hermione, meanwhile, tried to alternately calm Ron and speak soothingly to Crookshanks by peering under the opposite side of the bed. (She also used the Carpet Repair Spell where Ron's sparks had singed it.) Finally fed up with the two males in her life completely at odds, Hermione stood to take charge.  
  
All right! All right! TRUCE!   
  
Ron had calmed a bit just from the exertion of waging the war, so Hermione found it a little easier to talk him into standing. You! I love you, but you're acting completely mental!  
  
But he won't get out of our room! Ron protested, sounding rather younger than his years. And he keeps--  
  
Hermione said tersely to interrupt the rant, then tried to speak very soothingly. You go sit over there. I'll get him out from under the bed, let him calm down, and he'll go away. I promise. And since it doesn't look like I'm going to be unpacking any more tonight, I may as well go change. Then I'm all yours-- and maybe you can forget --about-- the cat.  
  
Hermione pushed Ron toward the bedroom chair, where he sat sulking in his boxers. By talking soothingly to her cat and using _Accio Crookshanks _once more, Crookshanks withdrew his claws and let Hermione pull him out and set him on the bed, where he persisted in glaring at Ron, his tail still squirming restlessly.   
  
Collecting something from an open suitcase on top of the bureau, Hermione turned and pointed a warning finger at both Ron and Crookshanks in turn. Nothing, gentlemen, nothing--understand? I'll be right back. She then headed for the loo.  
  
Ron and Crookshanks glared. It didn't seem that either one considered the battle over, but they both knew they'd be in trouble with Hermione if they started up again. And that wasn't anything either of them wanted.  
  
It was several minutes before Ron spoke quietly, lest Hermione should hear. So look at you. You happy now? You're on the bed, and I'm stuck way over here.   
  
More glaring.  
  
All right, damn it-- I'm sorry I was shouting and grabbing. Is that better? Ron apologized. But you've got to own up to your part in this, too, you know. I know this is new and different, but we've got to work this out, mate--because we both love her.  
  
Ron stood, causing Crookshanks' eyes to go wide as the cat crouched down, ready to pounce. Ron held up his hands to indicate he was still in truce' mode, then he moved to sit on the floor next to the bed near where Crookshanks still glared.  
  
All right, let's talk about this-- man to man--well, male to male, Ron started. Remember last spring? Remember when I saw you pacing by the window howling? Hermione thought there was something wrong with you, but I knew there was nothing wrong. Because I _knew _what the howling was all about. I saw that sweet little grey Persian with the blue eyes waiting outside for you. Wasn't _I _the one who let you out, even though Hermione yelled at me for it? Remember?  
  
Crookshanks still watched Ron carefully, but the glare had turned to a focused interest in what the man was doing and saying.  
  
Ron continued. And wasn't it _me_ who told that Ravenclaw girl that I saw her grey Persian go the other way? So see, we've gotta stick together, us blokes. The females in the world get us all tied up in knots, then we take it out on each other. That's wrong, mate. We can't let them do that to us. We don't have to be the best of friends, but we've got to stick together...  
  
Ron heard a noise across the room and casually glanced that way as he prepared to continue his talk with Crookshanks. But the casual glance turned into a dumbfounded stare and Ron suddenly forgot how to speak at all.  
  
Standing near the bathroom door was Hermione, looking as beautiful as she had on the day of their wedding, but in a different' sort of way, Ron noted. He didn't know the name for what she was wearing, but he knew that it looked like a lacy, very pale blue piece of heaven--or rather, heaven is what Hermione looked like _in_ it. Her fluffy hair swung full and loose around her shoulders just the way he liked it, looking as if millions of tiny lights glinted throughout. And the way the material slid enticingly over those curves that he was still working so painstakingly to map out and memorize day by day...  
  
Ron tried to tell her any of the things that had just whizzed through his head--just one was all he asked of himself. After all, everything else in his body certainly seemed to be working fine-- there was no doubt from the overwhelming rush of heat that he felt through certain parts of his body that he had gone from the earlier cruising speed to full throttle just this moment. But somehow that didn't connect to his body's verbal department--what came out was merely a meek little and a very obvious swallow.  
  
Though he hadn't given her much to go on, Hermione must have understood she should be pleased at what he thought of her. She simply waited for a minute to see if there was any more to hear, then moved to close the window (no doubt in case she found herself becoming loud and carried away' at some point later).  
  
Ron watched her walk across the room, never imagining she could look even lovelier in motion. _Say something--anything!--you prat!_ Oh, God.  
  
Having to think fast while she was still out of earshot if he whispered, Ron made a decision. He wasn't too proud to beg--not right now, not for this, not for her. Under his breath, Ron muttered urgently, Crookshanks-- for the love of all wizardkind--think spring--think grey Persian--that's where I am now, mate. Two whole days! Just _look _at her! Wait--no, don't! But if you have any shred of animal decency in you at all--_let me out!  
  
_But Hermione did hear --something. What did you say?  
  
Swallowing again, Ron still couldn't keep his eyes off of his wife. He merely shook his head at her question, but had to force himself to tear his gaze away. Turning to Crookshanks, he hoped the pleading look in his eyes would somehow get through.  
  
Crookshanks seemed to sense the urgency in Ron's request, but at first simply looked haughtily at him for a moment. Next, the cat slowly turned his gaze to Hermione, then to Ron, then back to Hermione. Taking his sweet time and acting as if he wanted to make sure that Ron knew it, Crookshanks stood, stretched, jumped off the bed, and finally-- sauntered slowly from the room.  
  
Hermione looked suspiciously at Ron. What did you say to him?  
  
Ron stood, smiling his cocky grin as he moved in on his wife. You said you'd make me forget about him.  
  
No, Ron--really. What did you do to the cat?  
  
Ron was so close now that Hermione felt his lips form the words on her own. But they were the last words that night that weren't totally and passionately meant for her.  
  
What cat?  
  
~~~***~~~  
  
It was mid-morning when Ron awoke, thrilled that he was the first one up so that he could relish the image of Hermione sleeping curled against his side.  
  
Finally, she opened her eyes sleepily and looked into his face, reaching her arm around his middle to cuddle closer. You up already? she asked, yawning.  
  
Yeah--but see? I let you sleep, Ron said. Well--a little.  
  
she said non-commitally. I haven't watched many sunrises_ before_ I go to sleep anyway. Good thing for you I like it.  
  
Ron felt the slippery coolness of something near his hand on top of the covers. He lifted it to see if it was what he thought it was.  
  
Sure enough, his hand held a very pale blue piece of lacy cloth. God, you're beautiful in this. Not that you're not beautiful in everything, but...God, you're beautiful in this.  
  
Hermione smiled, still surprised when her previously always-tongue-tied Ron could deliver such a lovely, warm compliment so eloquently (but perhaps it was the setting and the company that helped). Thank you. Actually, I'm rather surprised that you remember--you didn't leave it on me for very long.  
  
Making a noise deep in his throat, Ron said, Trust me, I remember. I'll remember every time I think about you for a long, long time...  
  
Just after hearing a slight rustling on the floor, the bed jerked momentarily as Crookshanks jumped up and slowly walked to sit at the top of Hermione's pillow.   
  
Good morning, kitty, Hermione said, lifting her arm from Ron's chest to scratch Crookshanks' neck.   
  
Ron even tried not to mind too much. He watched the huge ginger cat stretch his neck to give her access; Crookshanks' eyes were partially closed as he obviously enjoyed every second of the scratching and the attention.  
  
You know, Crookshanks never came back in last night--are you sure you didn't something to him? Hermione asked, obviously still dissatisfied with her answer of the night before.  
  
I didn't. He caught her doubtful look.   
  
Well--what did you say to him?  
  
Nothing much, Ron said. Spring--grey Persian.  
  
Hermione said quizzically.What are you _talking_ about?  
  
Oh--you probably wouldn't understand, Ron said. Gentlemen's agreement--right, Crookshanks?  
  
Ron looked up at the half-closed orange-gold eyes positioned above him -- and he could have sworn he saw one wink...  
  
...just before a large and fluffy, ginger-colored tail smacked him hard across the face.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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